


weeping wings

by ryles (nexiliss)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Mild Gore, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, they are best friends your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29023788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nexiliss/pseuds/ryles
Summary: Tommy has wings. Big, beautiful, larger than life red wings that sparkle when the sun hits his feathers just right as he rides on the wind currents above his home. They were HIS wings and his alone... or so he thought.So, when Tommy hears of how his father has disowned him, left him in the smoking ashes of his home and whisked his friend off as a replacement; he doesn't know what to make of it. But his wings do. And his wings are made of fury.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 790





	1. puzzle pieces

**Author's Note:**

> if any of you motherfuckers look in the direction of this fic and even THINK about shipping ANY of the characters, i will stomp you to death with my hooves.

The sun rises over rubble, painting the sky a brilliant bloody orange. Bodies lay broken and bruised amongst the debris, ashes and dust falling upon them like a terrible grey blizzard. A wide, obsidian grid hangs over the smoking crater as the angel of death and a godless man run off into the nearby forest, a pack of blood soaked wolves trailing silently behind them.

Two teenage boys sit at the edge of the maze in the sky, staring blankly down at the fragments of their broken home. The former president and the man he exiled, his best friend, sit in each other’s quiet company. Tommy’s wings hang limply behind him, a dull red as his feathers collect ashes; not a beat of hope in them to be found. Tubbo’s suit is wrinkled, his white shirt unbuttoned, tie knocked askew in the haste of battle. His shoulders sag as he caves in on himself.

“How did things go so wrong?” he asks quietly.

Tommy looks up at his friend. Tubbo shakes his head, dust falling from his dark curls and the horns nestled between them. The burn scars on his face and arms are faded beneath the dirt on his skin. He looks older now, more exhausted, not like the young, happy-go-lucky beekeeper that Tommy once knew.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when did it all fall apart? Was it when Wilbur founded L’manburg? When you and I picked a fight with Dream?”

“You know that none of this is our fault, Tubbo,” Tommy says gentle, but firm. “We were put in a fucked up situation.”

Tubbo shakes his head again. “Maybe we’re doomed to this, Tommy; we keep going in circles, history keeps repeating itself.”

Tommy stays silent. He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He can’t hold out hope anymore, it’s been proven to him time and time again that his hope is futile. L’manburg has disintegrated right before their very eyes, and it can never come back.

Pulled from his thoughts by an unfamiliar sensation running up and down his spine, he tenses. Someone was touching him, his wings. Tommy’s heart pounds against his ribcage as sharp memories of Dream and exile flash through his mind, slicing into his lungs like shards of glass. The painful crack of bones, a sword trailing down his back, and a white mask whispering sweet nothings as Tommy lay on the ground before him, shattered and bleeding.

But this was different. There was no sword, no rough hands wrapping around his wings, no broken bones; no, instead, soft hands gently stroke them, fingers weaving into the red feathers before their familiarity sunk in: Tubbo. It was just Tubbo. Tommy swallows the lump that had formed in the back of his throat.

“You alright?” Tubbo’s voice is muffled as he buries his face into Tommy’s wings, breathing in deep the faint scent of apples and cinnamon.

“I’m fine, Big Man, don’t worry,” he says. Tommy shifts, wings fluttering as Tubbo pulls back and crawls around to his right side. His wing stretches out and wraps around Tubbo as he leans into Tommy’s shoulder, a cut on his cheek stinging at the contact.

“So… what do we do now?” the smaller boy asks. Tommy glances down at him before looking out across the ruined land below them.

“We go home and make a plan of attack to get the discs back.”

Tubbo laughs. It’s not full of its usual airiness, it’s heavy and sad. He sniffles before quickly blinking and wiping his eyes.

“Home where?” he says, voice soft and broken. “L’manburg was all I had, Tommy.”

Tommy sighs and draws his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “I’m no longer exiled, am I? Why don’t you live with me?”

Tubbo sits up, a small spark reignited in him. “Really?”

“Of course. Why would I ever turn you away?” Tommy says. “I told you that I’d never leave your side; I’m not going anywhere.”

Tubbo smiles and Tommy feels himself relax for the first time in a long time. He stands up and stretches, his arms reaching for the blazing morning sky as his wings fan out behind him. Tubbo stays seated, still gazing out across the rubble.

“I can’t believe it’s all gone, just like that.”

“You don’t have to carry the weight of the world all by yourself, you know?” Tommy says as he reaches his hand out. “Let’s get you home, Big Man.”

Tubbo finally tears his eyes away from his ruined nation and when they lock onto Tommy’s blue ones, they are swimming with hope. He takes Tommy’s hand and yelps as Tommy pulls him up quickly and they walk to the edge of the obsidian grid together.

“Wait, Tommy, what are we doing?”

Tommy laughs. “How else do you expect us to get home, Tubbo?”

Tubbo groans nervously as Tommy shakily flaps his wings, their steady beat growing more and more powerful as he begins to rise into the air. Tubbo gulps as he looks down, the staggering height causing a rock to form in the pit of his stomach as he stumbles back.

Tommy stops flying and walks over to his friend. Tubbo’s chest is heaving as he breathes shallow, gasping breaths. Tommy puts his two hands on Tubbo’s shoulders and turns him so that they’re facing each other.

“Tubbo, listen to me,” he says sternly. “You’re going to be alright, okay? I promise I won’t drop you, Big Man.”

Tubbo nods rapidly, his brown eyes darting all over the place. He gulps and Tommy moves his hands to his friend’s face.

“Hey, hey, breathe with me, yeah? Come on. Breathe.”

Tommy took big, deep breaths and motioned for Tubbo to follow suit. The taller boy put his hands back on Tubbo’s shoulders as they breathed together.

“There you go- you got it.”

Tubbo nodded and took a few more breaths before he spoke a small, shaky request.

“Please don’t let me fall.”

Tommy smiles softly as he whispers. 

“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy, it's scottie!!
> 
> if you're here from twitter (@WTH0UTYOU btw if you wanna drop me a follow) then heyy bestie ;) and if you've just stumbled across this fic or a friend has recommended it to you, i am so sorry <3
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this chapter and i can't wait to put out more. kudos and kind comments are so greatly appreciated.


	2. a bitter exchange

It’s been two days since the fall of L’manburg. Tubbo sighs as he quietly opens the two wooden doors and steps into the house, shaking off his scarf and jacket. He feels along the wall for the chest to drop his keys in as he slips out of his snow covered boots. 

“So, that’s where you’ve been sneaking off too.”

Tubbo jumps at Tommy’s flat voice as lantern light fills the room. He stands in the hallway, leaning against the wall. His wings fan out behind him.

“Jesus, Tommy, warn a man next time.”

Tommy crosses his arms. “I’ll warn you when you tell me why you’ve been going to the tundra in the dead of night.”

Tubbo scoffs as he turns to hang his coat on a nearby armor stand. “Who are you, my mum? Why should I tell you what I’ve been doing?”

Tommy laughs through gritted teeth. “ _Because_ , we’re roommates, aren’t we? Shouldn’t one know where the other is going in case of an emergency?”

“Oh, don’t worry yourself too hard, then,” Tubbo says sarcastically. “We won’t be roommates soon, anyway.”

Tommy’s wings droop for a split second, puffing up as Tubbo turns around again. “What do you mean we won’t be roommates? I thought you were gonna live with me so we can fight Dream together and get the discs back.”

Tubbo sighs as he moves across the room to the kitchen. He lights a nearby lantern and opens a cupboard, pulling a bowl and a few mushrooms out. He sets them on the counter as he refuels the furnace before turning to Tommy.

“I don’t want the stupid discs anymore, Tommy,” he says. “I’m tired of fighting wars; haven’t we stared down death enough?”

He stops to pour the mushrooms into the boiling water. Tommy stands in the hallway, seething as his wings gently begin to beat. Tubbo stirs the pot as he continues to speak.

“I just… I think it’s selfish, Tommy. The ways that we’ve ripped these lands apart, all for these discs that will ultimately end up meaning nothing to us.”

Tommy opens his mouth, ready to explode. But something in him stops and takes a deep breath as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Tubbo,” he begins slowly. “I know you think it’s selfish, and I’m sorry for that but we need to get the discs back-”

“No, you’re not listening to me!” Tubbo shouts. Tommy goes silent. His wings fold back. Tubbo’s voice fades out as the sounds of broken bones ring in his ears, the scent of gunpowder fills his nose and suddenly Tommy is not in his house but standing next to the smoking ruins of Logstedshire. 

Dream comes at him, sword in right hand, flint and steel in his left. The smile on his mask seems to turn upside down the closer he gets. Tommy blinks and Dream is in front of him, sword raised above his head before it comes swinging down like the swift, sharp blade of a guillotine. 

“ _You don’t listen, Tommy._ ” Dream says, voice low and distorted. “ _You need to be taught a lesson._ ”

Tommy’s arms move defensively as he covers his face, wings wrapping themselves in a protective shield around his body. The strike never comes. Instead, he feels a gentle hand touch his feathers and his wings tense before they pull away. Dream fades away, a simple mirage as Tubbo’s concerned face replaces him.

“Tommy?” his voice is soft and worried. “Tommy, are you alright? I was yelling and then you stumbled back and-”

Tubbo is cut off as Tommy rushes forward, wrapping his arms around his friend. His trembling wings envelop them as Tommy takes in deep, shaky breaths. Tubbo rubs small circles on his back and it isn’t until Tommy pulls away that he realizes he’s been crying. Tubbo sits in front of him, concern swirling in his eyes.

“Do you want to talk about what just happened or…?”

Tommy shakes his head and wipes his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Um- a lot of fucked up shit happened to me in exile. Don’t worry though, I’m working through it.”

Tubbo frowns; he doesn’t believe it. He stands up and gestures for Tommy to join him. They walk to the table together, Tommy sitting down while Tubbo opens the cupboard and grabs a second bowl. He makes their dinner and the two eat in silence for a moment before Tubbo decides to speak.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” he says quietly, chewing on a mushy potato. 

Tommy nods. “I’m sorry I interrogated you.”

Another beat of silence as they eat. Tommy’s wings are folded behind him, shoulders still tensed up from the anxiety inducing attack. 

“You don’t have the right to call me selfish after you exiled me because I was just a fucking ‘liability’ to you,” he mutters.

Tubbo sets his spoon down as he rolls his eyes. “Oh my God, here we go.”

“No, because I’m right,” Tommy says, wings shifting behind him restlessly. “It’s not fucking fair to call _me_ selfish when _you_ prioritized a whole fucking _country_ over me, _your best friend_!”

Tubbo clenches his jaw. “This may sound _selfish_ to you,” he spits, “But I don’t care about the discs, I don’t care about Dream; hell, I don’t even care about L’manburg anymore!”

“Oh really?” Tommy says, skeptical as he quirks an eyebrow, “Then, what do you care about? It’s gotta be practically nothing at this point, you’re basically like Dream now.”

“Oh my- Tommy, I care about you!”

Tubbo's chest is heaving as he speaks and Tommy’s wings tighten up. He watches on, soup forgotten as confusion knits his brows together.

“It’s you and me against the world, remember?” Tubbo says. “I've been forced to choose between everything I’ve ever loved and you and your discs; Tommy, I’ve always chosen you.”

Tommy goes quiet. 

“So, it’s not about the discs; it’s not about Dream. It’s about you. I am tired of always being second place to you after everything I’ve been through.”

Tubbo stands, his chair screeching backwards before he stalks off to his bedroom. Tommy flinches as the door slams, the force enough to make the bowls on the table rattle. He sighs and looks down at his soup. It’s gone cold, the potatoes and mushrooms floating at the top look dull and grey.

He’s not hungry anymore. Tommy rises slowly and gathers Tubbo’s cutlery, dumping everything into the nearby cauldron; he’d clean it tomorrow. All he really wants to do is lay down and sleep; to let his wings wrap themselves around him so he can ignore the wide, gaping hole in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo!
> 
> thank you all so much for all the kudos already!! this fic has only been up for about two days and we've already got so much love :,) you lot are insane. hope you all enjoyed the clingyduo fight in this chapter, and if it caused you pain just imagine how i felt writing it ;)
> 
> as always, kudos and kind comments are so appreciated. follow me on twitter @WTH0UTY0U for more mcyt content and i'll see y'all in the next chapter <3


	3. an accident and the way it echoes

It’s been a week since Tommy’s panic attack and their fight. Tubbo’s secluded snow oasis is nearly complete and soon he and Tommy won’t be tiptoeing around each other. No more gently setting plates down for shared dinners in silence, no more quick nods when they pass each other in the common area. It kills Tubbo to see his relationship with his best friend fall apart so agonizingly slow like this.

Two loud bangs on his bedroom door wake him as the boy throws back his green blankets and crosses his room. He opens the door to see a very agitated Tommy standing outside in the hallway, wings ruffled and hair damp from a late night shower.

“What the hell?” Tubbo yawns.

Tommy scoffs as he peers inside the room. “Did you hear that?”

Tubbo blinks and shakes his head groggily. “No, I didn’t hear anything. What, did you hear something?”

Tommy holds his hand up, motioning for quiet. Tubbo closes his mouth. There’s a beat of silence before they hear it together; the clicks and gurgles of an Enderman lurking outside.

“There it is!” Tommy exclaims. He pulls an axe off its holder on the wall and tests its weight. 

“Wait, Tommy, it’s probably just Ranboo-”

“Stay here, Tubbo, don’t move,” Tommy interrupts. “I’ll take care of it, okay? Be right back.”

Tubbo opens his mouth to speak once more but Tommy is already gone around the corner. He sighs and leans against his door frame as he listens to the faint sounds of commotion and a deep, frightened voice before Tommy is profusely apologizing. Tubbo snorts before walking out to the common area.

“Again, really sorry about that, Big Man,” Tommy says as he rubs a hand on the back of his neck. His wings droop behind him in embarrassment. “Anyway, what can I do for you?”

Ranboo straightens his tie nervously as he slouches to match Tommy’s height. “Well, I came to return Tubbo’s pickaxe and drop off some extra food I had. Figured you guys might need it.”

Tommy nods as he takes two bags from Ranboo’s slender hands. He holds one in each hand as he smiles sheepishly at the half Enderman being.

“Thank you, man. Hey, would you want to come inside for a bit? It’s not because I’m sorry about trying to murder you but Tubbo made a little too much pumpkin pie tonight.”

Ranboo laughs and small purple sparks burst all around him. Tubbo smiles from his place in the common area, it’s like watching harmless little fireworks. Tommy’s wings perk up and begin to flutter. Seems like they thought the same thing.

“Nah man, I’d love to but I gotta get home to Dad- I mean, Phil,” Ranboo says. “I promised I’d help him enchant a few items for Techno.”

Suddenly, the world stops. Whatever sort of light had filled the room quickly dissipated as Tommy’s wings folded into themselves. He drops the bags he’s holding to the floor with heavy thuds. Tubbo rushes forward and steps in front of him.

“Thank you for the pickaxe and food, Ranboo,” he says quickly, hands reaching for the doorknobs. “We really appreciate it. Get home safe, yeah? Goodnight!”

But as Tubbo goes to slam the doors shut, Ranboo sticks his foot in to stop him. He looks nervous and concerned as he attempts to peer into the house to get a good look at Tommy.

“Ranboo, what do you think you’re doing?” Tubbo asks, his voice is low with an unknown edge to it that makes Ranboo’s ears stand up.

“W- well, Phil also gave me this.”

He holds out a book, the gentle lantern light making the leatherbound cover appear warm and inviting. Tubbo notices the carefully painted gold letters on a piece of paper that’s been wrapped around the book.

_For Tommy._

“He said that it’s for Tommy’s eyes only and I don’t know what he wrote inside so-”

“Yes, yes, thank you very much, Ranboo,” Tubbo interrupts as he takes the book and shoves it under his arm as he reaches for the doorknobs again. “Get home safe now.”

He slams the doors shut, leaving a confused half Enderman outside. Tubbo waits a moment before he hears the familiar soft _‘whoosh’_ as Ranboo teleports elsewhere. He turns around and finds Tommy pacing about the room.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Tommy exhales and scratches the back of his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Tommy looks up from the spot he had trained his eyes on on the floor. He gave a thumbs up and nodded. His wings were folded behind him neatly, no otherwise outward signs of distress. Tubbo breathes a quiet sigh of relief. He hands the book to Tommy, whose wings flutter as he recognizes the swooping letters.

“I’m gonna go back to bed now,” Tubbo yawns, resting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder as he walks by. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

Tommy nods as Tubbo leaves him alone in the common room. He stands in the middle of the room, shaking with invisible anger, gripping the book with an unknown fury in his fists. He glances at the clock above the front door. He looks back to the hallway where his bedroom is and decides that he’ll just sleep off this awful feeling. 

———————

Tommy wakes up the next morning tangled in his sheets, sweaty and breathing heavily, and he knows that sleep did not rid him of the feeling at all. He gets dressed, flexes his wings, and walks out to the common area. He ignores the book on his night table.

A few neatly stacked boxes sit in the room, all labeled with Tubbo’s terrible handwriting. Tommy sees the front doors open as Tubbo walks through with Fundy and Quackity.

“Thanks for helping me move, guys,” he chatters happily. “I’m so stoked about this new place, I built it myself and everything.”

Fundy says something, Tommy can’t quite make it out, but he assumes it’s funny as Tubbo laughs.

Quackity turns around and makes eye contact with him as Tommy walks over to the kitchen. He gets a glass of water and takes careful sips as the room goes silent, all eyes on him.

“Today’s moving day, huh?” he asks nonchalantly. Quackity goes to say something but Fundy grabs him by the arm and shakes his head. Tubbo answers instead.

“Yup! These are the last boxes, actually…”

Tommy laughs as he sets his water down, seeming to surprise the two men behind Tubbo. He turns around to wash his cup while he talks.

“Let me guess, they’re pretty heavy so you need someone to fly them over to your new place so that these motherfuckers don’t have to lug it all through the snow?”

Tubbo laughs as Fundy and Quackity sputter uselessly behind him.

“You read my mind, Big Man.”

Tommy’s wings puff out. “Well, duh. I _am_ your best friend,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll just take them right now.”

As Tommy flies off with the last of Tubbo’s belongings and he soars above the clouds, he finds himself thinking about his wings. They are a testament to his strength and trust but they come from Phil. Phil, who’s abandoned him for someone else, yet again. Phil, who’s given him a book that Tommy hasn’t read yet. Phil, who killed his eldest son and Tommy’s older brother. His wings twitch silently.

Smoke in the distance pulls Tommy from his thoughts as he glides down for a landing in the snowy landscape. He walks up the front steps of the cabin and sets the boxes down before looking around. The house is cold and dark. Chests and bookshelves sit scattered about the bottom floor. It’s obviously not got the same warm, inviting charm that Tubbo has naturally.

Tommy wanders over to a small box in the corner, the handwriting on it reads “ _Big Man Tommy’s_. _”_ Tommy rolls his eyes as he laughs to himself before gently opening the wooden chest. Inside was a single item, a small cracked compass. Engraved at the top are the words “ _Your Tommy_.” 

Before he can stop himself, Tommy feels tears forming in the corners of his eyes and doesn’t try to stop them as they slide down his cheeks. He reaches a trembling hand up to his neck, where he keeps his own compass that leads to Tubbo. 

“Please don’t go,” he whispers to an empty room. “Please don’t leave me behind like everybody else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo, it's scottie!
> 
> how we feeling about Ranboo's slip up? more importantly, is tommy gonna be okay now that Tubbo is off on his own and he knows that Phil is pushing him out? guess we'll find out!!
> 
> follow me on twitter for more mcyt content (@WTH0UTY0U). kudos and kind comments are always appreciated!


	4. burning coals on bare skin

It’s Tommy’s first night alone without Tubbo. It’s his first night without familiar melodies gently floating out of the jukebox, his best friend at his side on the bench. He’s consumed by ghostly memories of the discs, Tubbo, and freedom he felt when everything was much simpler.

Tommy sits in his room well past dinner time before realizing that he has to make it himself. He pulls himself up from the warm comfort of his bed, the cold air causing his feathers to ripple and shiver. He stares warily at the book on his night table that’s laid untouched for two days now. The swooping gold letters mock him, laughing at how his father abandoned him for somebody else; a nicer, quieter boy who doesn’t cause too much trouble. His wings tense up uncomfortably. The right twitched before flapping outwards uncontrollably.

“Fine, I’ll read the bloody book,” he says. “But only if it’ll get you to shut the fuck up.”

His wing calms down as Tommy picks up the leather-bound item and tucks it under his arm as he walks out to the kitchen. He sets it on the table beside him as he peers inside his cabinets for any sort of meal that he can scrounge together. All that sit on the shelves are two moldy loaves of bread and a single, unripe apple. Tommy groans as he reaches for the fruit and sits down at the table with it and his book. The chair across from him feels incredibly empty. 

The gold letters loom over him as his wings begin to itch. He shifts, attempting to ignore the growing ache in his shoulder blades as he flips the cover open.

_For Tommy’s eyes only! If you are not Tommy and you’re reading this… I’ll send Technoblade after you :)_

The mention of his father’s friend makes Tommy’s mouth set into a firm frown. The smile at the end of the sentence makes his breath constrict for a moment as his wings stilled. It seems that haunting smile still has some effect on him. He scoffs and turns the page.

_Hey kiddo,_

Tommy rolls his eyes and takes a large, crunching bite out of the apple. It’s sourness curdles into his cheeks as distant sounds of explosives hum in his ears.

_Hey kiddo,_

_This has been a long time coming, I think. Ever since you were a kid, I could never understand you. The way that your hands would flap when you’d get excited, the way you refused to call me ‘dad,’ instead running to Wilbur and clinging to his knees. Wilbur built L’manburg for Fundy, for you and Tubbo, for Niki; Tommy, he cared about people. But Techno is right: the government corrupts. It’s evil, crawls right into your heart and makes a home there, only leaving when someone forces it too; the way I forced it too when I killed your brother._

_Tommy, you were born with those beautiful red wings. That’s how I knew that you were mine. But when I came home from my adventure, I found that you ripped those wings from me. You were told to use those wings for good but instead you followed Wilbur so blindly, you let him fall into the hands of the government; Tommy, Wilbur is dead because of your inability to pull him out. You better put those wings to use and stay the hell away from Ranboo because you are no son of mine._

_Sincerely, Philza._

_P.S. Do not stop by Techno’s. He won’t let you out alive._

Tommy can’t breathe. The apple in his hands turns red as he shakes, the bloody color clouding his vision. Whispers, ones he hasn’t heard since he was a child, spill into his brain and before it all comes to a boil, he slams the book to the floor.

His wings ache as he recalls the final sentences his father- _Philza_ \- had written. These wings are no longer his, so brilliantly red, larger than life. The itch spreads across his shoulders and back, burning into his skin like it’ll brand something just below the red feathers.

_FAILURE. NOT WORTHY. DISOWNED._

Tommy knows they aren’t there, he knows they aren’t real. So, why can he feel the letters carve into his back? He squeezes his eyes shut as he grits his teeth. His wings flap irritably, almost as if they’re trying to fly away from _him_. 

He stands up, his chair screeching backwards. The blinding pain reaches a crescendo and he shouts, fingers gripping at his arms as he desperately writhes on the floor. His wings are no longer a part of him, they've become alien; a heavy, burning burden. Tommy wants them _gone_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha... hey :)
> 
> figured i might as well give y'all a treat what with the snow and all in my hometown. two chapters in a day, how we feeling? i'm sure you're all so stoked about the angst that's to come in the next few chapters!! on a different note, with this fourth chapter marks our halfway point throughout tommy's winged journey! let me know your thoughts in the comments on this one, i read all of them <3
> 
> follow me on twitter for more mcyt content (@WTH0UTY0U). kudos and kind comments are always appreciated.


	5. moulting season

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick tw right now in case you didn't read the tags for this fic!!
> 
> this chapter contains some mild gore and body horror towards the end. please feel free to skip the last two paragraphs (right after tommy says "i've felt worse") if you would rather not read it <3
> 
> other than that, i hope you enjoy!!

Tommy stumbles out of his house and walks down the wooden path, the rainbow beacons in the distance growing larger as he gets closer to the castle. He enters the grand ballroom, its gleaming, golden throne sits empty. His wings shudder, almost as if they know what he is planning.

He walks through empty halls and gazes at the paintings along the walls. He comes across a ripped one, the canvas so scarred, it’s nearly impossible to see who it’s a painting of. Tommy catches a glimpse of white goggles and a brilliant smile before he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Dream didn’t like the reminder,” a deep voice murmurs softly. 

“Hey, Eret,” Tommy says, casting his eyes away from the painting. 

“Hello, Tommy. What can I do for you today?”

Tommy sighs, ready to spill his guts but before he can say anything, Eret speaks first. 

“Let's get out of this stuffy hallway and go to the greenhouse,” he says. “I have some crops I’d like to attend to.”

Tommy follows Eret through the castle as the king strides towards the left wing, the sun gently filtering in through the towering glass prism that surrounds them. The room is warm as an open skylight allows for a gentle breeze to waft through. Plants hang from flower pots suspended by enchantments, trees cast cool shadows onto the stone pathway as Eret weaves through the various flower patches, careful not to crush any underfoot.

He stops at a chest next to a small carrot farm and crouches as he lifts its heavy lid. Tommy rushes over to assist him, holding the lid up while Eret rummages around inside, the harsh sounds of metal tools hitting each other makes Tommy cringe as he struggles to bade back unwanted memories of clashing swords and whitehot death. His wings tense up defensively.

Eret pulls a spade out from underneath the dirtied garden tools and sets it beside him as he takes off his cloak, folding it into a neat square before laying it on the ground; gently discarding his golden crown on top of it. He turns around, rolls up his sleeves, and sets to work on his carrots, poking and prodding at the soft soil.

“Now then, Tommy,” he says. “What is it that you’ve come here for?”

Tommy is silent for a moment. “You know, I don’t like you very much.”

Eret laughs. It’s deep and smooth, and for a moment Tommy’s vision blurs and suddenly it’s Technoblade kneeling before him, laughing. Tommy’s wings relax and puff out for a split second.

“Trust me, Tommy, I am very aware of that,” Eret’s voice comes from Techno’s mouth and Tommy’s back in the greenhouse. 

“Good,” he says shortly.

“Well then, did you come here just to bother me or what?”

This is it. The request sits heavy on his tongue and his wings begin to flap erratically. Tommy lets out a shaky sigh as he struggles to keep his feathers in check. “Eret,” he says. “I want you to clip my wings.”

Eret stands up suddenly as he whirls around, dropping his spade to the soft soil, forgotten. His eyebrows furrow in concern as he speaks quickly.

“What? Why on Earth would you want me to do that?”

“They remind me of Phil, Eret. I don’t want them anymore.”

Eret pinches the bridge of his nose, sunglasses sliding up slightly. “Tommy, you might regret this. Are you absolutely certain that you want them gone?”

The blonde teen grows silent and Eret breathes a quiet sigh of relief. Has he talked him out of it? Tommy is just a child, cutting off his wings could be detrimental to his health. But then the young boy speaks again and it feels like everything Eret just said has crumbled to dust.

“I’m sure,” he nods, a steely, determined glint in his eyes. “I don’t need another reminder that I’m not good enough.”

Tommy turns around, and his wings are ready to pick him up and fly him far, far away from Eret’s strong, confident swing and the sharp, gleaming edge of his axe. Eret frowns as he watches the boy retreat, stepping over flowers on his way out. As Tommy gets to the doorway, he stops and reaches his hand up, two fingers stand alone in a peace-sign.

“Meet me in two hours at L’manburg.”

And with that, Tommy spreads his wings for the last time. Eret admires the shimmering red feathers as Tommy leaps straight up and flies out through the open skylight.

\----------------

Tommy’s wings twitch as he awaits a familiar silhouette on the horizon. The sky has clouded over, it’s such a dark grey that it almost feels like night has fallen. A storm is coming, Tommy knows it. He sees a tall figure in the distance, a flowing red cape behind them and for a split second, Tommy looks for a pink snout.

His wings begin to flap erratically as Eret comes into view, his netherite axe gleaming with magic at his side.

 _This is no time for second thoughts_ , Tommy urges. _Phil has made it very clear that he wants nothing to do with us, that he’d rather adopt Ranboo than make amends with me_.

“Damn,” Eret says solemnly as he looks across the crater. “This place just gets worse and worse to look at.”

Tommy nods and his wings shake and flap as Eret looks back to him. The king’s eyebrows furrow and Tommy rolls his eyes.

“I’m not changing my fucking mind, man,” he says irritably. “And even if these motherfuckers keep acting out, they won’t be doing it for much longer.”

Eret holds his hands up in a silent surrender as he shrugs. The two walk to a grassy spot that remained intact from the colossal explosion. Tommy drops to his knees and squeezes his eyes shut tight.

Eret weighs his axe in his hands before he decides to ask one more time, just in case Tommy has had a change of heart and they can both walk away from here without pain or guilt.

“Now, before I do this, Tommy,” he says gently. “Are you absolutely, _100% certain_ that this is what you want?” 

Tommy rolls his eyes and grits his teeth as he nods, despite his wings flapping wildly in protest. 

“Alright,” Eret sighs. “Try not to move too much, alright? This is going to hurt like hell.”

“I’ve felt worse,” Tommy mutters.

Eret swings the axe above his head, and in one fluid motion, he brings it down. The world seems to stop spinning as it makes contact with flesh and then bone. For the smallest, briefest second, Tommy feels light, weightless; the same way he felt when he was in the air. And then it all comes crashing down as white hot, burning pain rips through his shoulders and back. 

Blood runs down his back in thick, red rivers, staining the soil and grass around him. His vision blurs as he falls forward, fingers carving into his arms leaving white imprints on his tanned skin. Eret rushes forward, pulling bandages and healing potions out of his satchel. As the king works quickly to patch Tommy up, the sky lets loose a torrential downpour upon the bleeding, broken boy; and it too, mourns the loss of his glorious, magnificent red wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so,,,, yeah :D
> 
> i promise that things get better for tommy from here on out, don't worry darlings <3
> 
> hope y'all enjoyed!! follow me on twitter for more mcyt content (@WTH0UTY0U), i tweet literally every day. kudos and kind comments are always appreciated!!


	6. safety net

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight tw for this chapter!! mentions of blood and pain throughout the chapter, feel free to just skim or skip this one entirely; i promise, i won't be mad <3
> 
> other than that, enjoy and i'll see you on the other side!!

Tommy wakes up at home. He can barely move, the pain making it almost too unbearable for him to breathe. He slowly picks himself up, stopping for minutes at a time as he sits up against his pillows, paralyzed. His room is dark, and a large stick leans beside his bed, a piece of paper attached to it. Tommy reaches a slow, trembling hand out and jerks it back as electric pain shoots down his arm from his shoulder.

“Motherfucker,” he grumbles. He tries again, moving even slower this time. He tears the paper off the stick and brings it close to his eyes to make out the neat, straight letters.

_Tommy,_

_You are going to be in a great deal of pain for the next few months._ _After the removal of your wings, I patched you up (that’s why there are bandages around your chest and shoulders). You will have to change them yourself when you wake up. I also splashed some healing potions on your injuries but their effects will only last throughout the next couple hours. Should you wake up and find yourself in immense pain, drink two potions from the bag I left on your night table._

Tommy looks up from the note and squints into the dark in the direction of his night table. He can make out a vague, bag shaped mass in the blue dimness of his bedroom. A few objects inside glow pink and red faintly, the magic inside them swirling in their little glass vials. He feels like he’s suffocating as the bandages constrict his chest. He gently unwraps them and relishes in the cold air that spreads across his back. Tommy turns his attention back to the note.

_The stick I’ve attached this letter to is to be your walking stick. Now, for these first few days you will not be able to walk at all, as you will be greatly off balance and in a lot of pain. But once you can stand with the assistance or support of something else (like this stick!) then you should be good to move around for a few minutes a day. The recovery process will not be easy and afterwards, you will experience occasional aches, phantom pains, and possibly mental trauma._

_If you need anything at all, please contact me._

_\- Eret <3 _

Tommy lets the letter fall to his lap as he stares straight ahead into the darkness. He feels empty but soon it all hits him like an uncontrollable truck. He’s disowned Phil, his legacy, and anything of the family that he was once a part of. Tubbo is farther from him than ever before and the discs are under Dream’s iron grip. And, of course, his wings are gone. As if on cue, pain shoots across his back and he hunches over, gritting his teeth as he wraps his arms around his middle.

_Yeah, fuck this,_ he thinks to himself. Tommy eyes the stick leaning against his bed before looking down at Eret’s note. He’s not supposed to be walking right now… he shouldn’t.

But he can’t lie in bed for days on end, alone again. Under no circumstances could he be alone _ever_ again. Tommy makes up his mind right then and there in bed, bent in excruciating pain.

_Tubbo. I need Tubbo_.

\---------------

Tommy stumbles through the snow, one hand gripping the walking stick like his life depended on it, the other wrapped around his middle, careful to avoid the bloody stumps on his back. He sighs in relief as the silhouette of Tubbo’s home comes into view. The warm light from the cabin casts perfect yellow rectangles on the winter landscape outside. 

Tommy climbs Tubbo’s front steps before his knees give out and he collapses against the door. His cane falls to his side and rolls away, down the stairs and lands with a soft _‘thud’_ in the snow below. He shakily raises his right hand and raps against the spruce wood weakly. He can hear footsteps and movement from inside before Tubbo’s soft voice calls out.

“Coming!”

The door opens and Tubbo stumbles back as Tommy falls forward onto the floor in front of him.

“Tommy? Oh my God, you’re covered in blood! Is it yours? Jesus, what happened to you-”

Tubbo stops short as he notices how small Tommy seems. The bloody stumps on his back and the absence of a familiar fiery red say enough.

“Oh god, Tommy your wings… Tommy, what happened to your wings?”

The blonde boy is unresponsive as he takes in shallow, rasping breaths. His eyes are closed, dark lashes fluttering against his rosy cheeks as Tubbo rushes to shut the front door. He turns around and steps over Tommy as he crouches down to carry him upstairs. Tubbo scoops two hands under Tommy’s arms and attempts to lift him.

“Oh yeah, that is _not_ happening,” he grunts. “Sorry about this, Tommy.”

He slings one of Tommy’s arms across his shoulders and half drags, half walks the other boy upstairs to the spare bedroom. He gently lays him across the bed and stands back, hands on his hips as worry and concern clouds his mind.

“Alright,” Tubbo sighs. “Let’s get you fixed up, Big Man.”

Tubbo sets to work as he hurries about his home gathering healing potions from his brewing stands and carrying armfuls of bandages upstairs. He sits up all night, arms stretched across his best friend, gently cleaning the rivers of blood off his back. The dark woods surrounding the cabin are silent as Tubbo prays with all his skin and bone, _please keep him safe_.

It takes several hours before it really sinks in. Tommy’s wings are gone. Wrapped and shipped off to God knows where but Tubbo finds himself not really caring as he watches his friend sleep. Tommy’s breathing is more controlled now, the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the soft puffs escaping his mouth sounding much better than the shallow, rasping ones from when he first arrived on Tubbo’s doorstep.

“Who could have done this to you, Tommy?” he whispers into the lantern as the flame begins to sputter and die. “Who could’ve taken your wings without you fighting like hell?”

The sleeping boy did not respond. He did not have to. Tubbo would deal with that in the morning when Tommy woke. His best friend needs his care first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! it's me, scottie :)
> 
> apologies for the short chapter but what about that good ol protective/caretaker tubbo hc? i figured y'all deserve it after last chapter lmao. there will be more clingyduo to come btw, don't worry <3\. 
> 
> with that, follow me on twitter for more mcyt content (@WTH0UTY0U), i tweet literally every day. kudos and kind comments are always appreciated!!


	7. supporting a leaning tower

Tommy wakes up the next morning to a painful throbbing just below his shoulders. Tubbo sits at his bedside, gently flipping through a book, the quiet rustling of the pages worming its way into Tommy's ears.

“You can’t read,” Tommy says groggily. “Why the fuck are you reading?”

Tubbo looks up and turns around, smiling. He shuts the book and sets it beside him on the floor as he rises. 

“You’re awake!” he exclaims before crossing his arms defensively. “And, for your information, I _can_ read, it just takes me a little longer than most people.”

Tommy rolls his eyes as he flops back, eyes wide as white hot pain flashes through his entire body.

“Oh, Tommy!” Tubbo cries. “You have to watch your back, you-”

“Clipped my wings, yup,” Tommy breathes sharply. He gently, carefully, turns onto his left side. 

It takes Tubbo a moment as the realization dawns on him. He leans down as he whispers. “It was you? You cut them off yourself?” 

Tommy plays with a loose thread on the sheet under him. “Well, I didn’t do it myself. That would be fucking terrifying… also, I think I’d have to be very flexible to do that and I mean, look at me-” 

“Tommy,” Tubbo interrupts him. “Who did it?”

“I had Eret do it for me, but don’t worry, Tubbo! _I_ asked _him_.”

Tubbo feels the initial fuzziness in his chest begin to crumble. Did he really want it? Could Tommy have really wished for his wings, the ones that smelled of apples and cinnamon, a protective shield to Tubbo in childhood; to be clipped?

“But… why? Why on Earth would you want that?”

Tommy sighs, the familiar question sinks in as the stumps on his back throb achingly. “Because they reminded me of Phil. That man has been a piece of shit father to me since day one, Tubbo, and I don’t need those bloody wings to remind me that I wasn’t good enough for someone else.”

“You’re good enough for me,” Tubbo says quietly.

Tommy smiles softly. “Thank you.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Tommy speaks again.

“Wait… why am I not feeling as much pain?”

Tubbo stares at him. “What do you mean?”

Tommy props himself up against the mountain of pillows behind him, gritting his teeth while doing so as he begins to talk with his hands.

“I mean, when I woke up yesterday, I couldn’t sit up or walk or do anything remotely related to existing without feeling immense amounts of pain. Tubbo, I was like paralyzed and shit- so, I’m asking how it’s not as bad today.”

“Ohhh. Well, that’s because you are just so unbelievably drugged up on healing potions right now.”

Tommy sits in stunned silence for a moment before he laughs. And as he does, Tubbo breathes a sigh of relief because it sounds the same. It’s loud and obnoxious and annoying as hell and as it devolves into wheezing, Tubbo knows that Tommy will be okay. The road to recovery will be long and hard, sure, but as long as Tommy keeps laughing; he’ll be okay. _They’ll_ be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's scottie!! currently uploading this during class so that's fun.
> 
> anyways, i hope y'all enjoyed this short, fuzzy chapter :)) i felt like some clingyduo fluff was necessary in these trying times. but don't worry, there will be some angst in the next (AND LAST) chapter >:).
> 
> follow me on twitter for more mcyt content (@WTH0UTY0U), i tweet literally every day. kudos and kind comments are always appreciated!


	8. us and the moon; p.s. i never needed you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! last chapter huh? stick around for a long parting letter at the end of this chapter because wooo boy do i have a lot to say!

_A few months later…_

Philza hears a knock on Techno’s door while he’s eating dinner with his friend and two sons. Ranboo and Techno laugh at something Ghostbur says and Phil excuses himself from the table as he goes to answer.

He opens the heavy, spruce door in one fluid motion, prepared to greet a friend with a smile or an enemy with the sword at his side. Instead, there is nobody but the rapidly falling snow. His black wings shiver at the icy winds as he looks around before he glances down and finds a chest before him. No visible postmark that he could see; he lugs it into the house and all three boys come in from the dining room.

Ghostbur gasps excitedly as they watch Phil open it. “A package!”

“Oh, a package?” Ranboo asks questionably, pulling his diary and a quill out from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. 

Techno crosses his arms as he leans against the doorframe. “Looks like it. Got any postmarks, Phil?”

Phil is silent as he stares wide-eyed at whatever is inside the chest. His hands begin to shake as he pushes it away from him and sends it careening across the freshly polished floors.

“Phil…?”

Phil gulps and shakes his head. 

“Wings,” he says, strangled and hoarse. 

Techno strides over to the chest, Ranboo and Ghostbur hiding behind his looming frame. As the three peer inside, they realize what it was that sent the elder blonde man into this state. The only things inside the chest are two fiery red wings caked with blood. A snow-stained piece of paper sits neatly on top of them. Techno pulls it out.

_Hello father dearest._

_I don’t want these anymore. According to you, they were yours to begin with. Maybe you can give them to your new son, Ranboo. I’m sure he’ll be a great lad for you, just be careful with your sword around him, though! You know how much you enjoy hurting your kids :)_

_\- Tommy_

_P.S. I never needed you. I’m finally free._

\---------------

Tommy sits alone at the top of the tower by Tubbo’s home. His feet dangle over the edge and he feels a sinking feeling in his chest as he remembers the familiar feeling of the air beneath him. His shoulder blades ache, muscles flexing painfully where his wings once were. He hears a noise to his left as Tubbo approaches him, red blanket in hand.

Tommy smiles as Tubbo opens it and gently drapes it across his shoulders before sitting down. Tommy tugs the other half of it around Tubbo’s shoulders as his friend leans into him. It’s not the familiar soft and airiness of his wings but it’s something better. Tubbo speaks first as they watch the moon slowly sink into the ocean, the sun rising behind them.

“So, what are you going to do?”

Tommy sighs, his breath materializing in the cold air. “I’m not going after Dream,” he says plainly.

Tubbo leans away and looks at him in surprise. Tommy glances over and laughs.

“You are worth more than the discs ever were, Tubbo. Watching L’manburg fall, shedding my past, losing my wings… I think I can stand to lose the discs too.”

Tubbo smiles as he gently knocks his head into Tommy’s shoulder. “Good.” 

They sit in silence together for a moment more. They no longer tiptoe around each other, trying to fill in the quiet with noise; they’ve learned and grown together. Tommy looks out across the deep blue sea.

“You know what, Tubbo?”

Tubbo hums.

“I think I’m starting to like Snowchester more than my old home. Do you mind if I stay here with you?”

Tubbo shakes his head. “I don’t mind at all, Big Man. As long as you don’t try jumping off any high places, you can stay with me as long as you’d like.”

Tommy laughs. The sun rises higher as the moon waves a tearful goodbye to the two boys. Tubbo waves back and he swears he can see a smile form in its craters.

“If I do decide to go for a leap, Tubbo,” Tommy says finally. “You’ll catch me, right?”

Tubbo smiles softly as he whispers.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo, it's scottie :)
> 
> where to begin, huh? it's been eight chapters and exactly two weeks since i uploaded the very first one to ao3. lots of highs and lows in this one too! we got our phil angst the way that literally all of you wanted (don't worry, i wanted it to), and we got the clingyduo healing together in snowchester :))
> 
> but what i really want to say is; thank you. thank you so much for indulging in my story and engaging with each other in the comments. this all started because i made a ridiculous, self indulgent twitter thread on if tommy had wings that literally exploded overnight. so, i took it and sat down and wrote this entire fic in a week. 
> 
> i had no idea that this fic would grow and break out of the wings i molded for it. all the love and support from everybody has been absolutely phenomenal. i've gained so many friends and mutuals out of this and i could not be more grateful. y'all are absolutely insane and i hope you stick around.
> 
> now that we're done with being sappy, it's time to discuss when my next fic will be out! i am planning a short, two piece series (that follows the dsmp) but while i am working on it, i may be posting some one-shots (still pertaining to mcyts) and other short scenes that won't leave my brain.
> 
> again, thank you all so much for all the love on this story and i hope that its message will resonate with some of you; you can heal. you are more than your trauma and i assure you that you are so loved.
> 
> thank you,  
> scottie


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